‘Perfect Days’ movie review: another jewel in Wim Wenders’ crown
Wim Wenders is a filmmaker who does not shy away from projects that lack drama, tension, and the kind of clear-cut plots in popular blockbusters. As seen in previous projects like Paris Texas, Wings of Desire, or Faraway/So Close, he is comfortable with a slow, simple, highly personal, enigmatic, or openly sentimental storyline. His latest feature, Perfect Days, is a fine example, winning the Jury Prize at Cannes and is the Japanese submission for the 2024 Oscars. Wenders does wonderful work with a plot that is almost showily minimal, built around a main character remarkable for the sheer ordinariness of his outward characteristics and activities. Wenders, along with co-screenwriter Takuma Takasaki, turns these elements into a celebration of the more humble and undervalued human qualities.
The central character is a middle-aged man named Hirayama (named after the protagonist in the final film by director Yasujirō Ozu, as a tribute to one of Wenders’ most admired directors). Hirayama is played by Koji Yakusho, the esteemed, multi-award-winning veteran actor best known outside Japan for his roles in Babel, Shall We Dance? and Memoirs of a Geisha. His role in Perfect Days won the ‘Best Actor’ award at Cannes – well deserved, as it is the performance of a lifetime, understated yet expressive, a particular challenge for a part which has lengthy stretches with no spoken dialogue.
Hirayama is a janitor whose work involves cleaning the public toilets in Tokyo. The film takes considerable time to introduce the audience to the protagonist, following his daily routine in loving detail. He awakens in a small, neat apartment, dressed in coveralls, eats a spartan breakfast, and goes to his truck. While driving to work, he listens to a limited range of classic rock from his small collection of cassette tapes – very little additional music is provided for the soundtrack. On the way, he takes time to admire the nearby trees and shrubs with the same affection he brings to tending his houseplants, which he supplements by carefully collecting seedlings in his travels.
Throughout his day, Hirayama pauses to study the clouds, the faces of passers-by, or any object that catches his interest, almost as though examining a painting or an antique curiosity, sometimes capturing distinctive images with his camera. His interactions with people are consistently warm. Even his work is done with focused attention and painstaking care that transforms the menial tasks into personal meditation. None of this is overdone or given an openly mystical air; it comes across very naturally through the actor’s subtle work.
Wenders diverges again from film conventions by using repetition beyond what might be expected. We see Hirayama rising each morning, driving through Tokyo and doing his cleaning work, visiting the same café for his evening meal, choosing and reading a book, and falling asleep, only to repeat the cycle again and again until the routine becomes familiar and predictable. One result is that the most trivial changes in the daily routine draw the audience’s attention, just as they attract Hirayama’s interest. The choice of new reading material and the topic being discussed at the café are made interesting simply because they stand out from the round of identical activities.
Another result is that the audience becomes effortlessly familiar with Hirayama’s personality, opinions, and tastes before anything of significance occurs. The film makes one intriguing addition: when Hirayama sleeps, glimpses of his dreams are shown as misty, vague, disjointed images but contain faces and situations which may become significant as the movie continues, often giving some indication of his state of mind or his present concerns. Credit must be given to cinematographer Franz Lustig for the camerawork that captures the tone of every scene, from the grainy dream images to the imposing views of the sky or trees. Hirayama takes such pleasure in close shots of the dim, comfortable privacy of his home as he reads. The camera often communicates as much as dialogue might, particularly in solitary scenes.
The storyline takes a new direction when Hirayama’s teenage niece (Aoi Yamada) turns up. Her visit introduces the complicated matter of Hirayama’s family and a longstanding conflict between himself and his sister, bringing discord to a seemingly peaceful life. The film remains firmly ambiguous about the exact cause of the dispute, choosing instead to focus on the estrangement between family members and the impact of their feud on all concerned, particularly Hirayama himself.
The second act reveals the shadow over his apparently peaceful life and provides a moving, perceptive study of love, loss, and pain. All this is done without breaking free of the minimalist style, and Yakusho’s portrayal remains as subtle and eloquent in expressing grief as joy. Perfect Days is another jewel in the crown of a master of artful nuance and is a film whose impact stays with you.